Love Always
by Iced Raspberry
Summary: Sort of a strange fic, semi-romantic...Knuckles, Julie, and Lara-su are living in a war-era setting (think 1940's-ish)...how will they deal with it? R+R!!


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This is a fanfic. This is a fanfic that a lot of people will probably hate because I cannot write romance and stay in character. But this is a fanfic that needs a little lovin'. So why not reveiw it when you're done and let it know you care? ^^   
  
WARNINGS:   
**Death. Don't hate me for it; I love...the person that dies...to itty bitty peices, but he DIES so...leave now if that's gonna bug you.   
Romance. Knuckles and Julie-su. May cucumbers rejoice.   
  
** ****   
  
  
**Love Always**   
  
She stood resolutely, her hands resting gently, protectively, on her very large stomach, her proud symbol of her soon-to-be motherhood. She did not have to ache in hunger, nor spend countless hours int he frozen outside standing in line to get her family's poor excuse for a daily meal. He did that for her. he was so strong, despite each night giving his small portion to her. He was kind, gentle, and sweet; she was very much in love with him and proud to call him her husband. And each day, she would stand witht he same determined hope, awaiting his arrival from the food lines.   
  
Just as night fell, he flung open the door. He did not enter as he usually did, precariously balancing the two cracked bowls of food, smiling and declaring, "I'm home, Julie!" Instead, tonight his face was drawn, he barely noticed the bowls, and he clutched a brownish-yellow peice of paper. he met his wife's eyes and sighed; something weighed down on him almost painfully.   
  
"Knuckles...?" she ventured carefully.   
  
He set the bowls on their small table, pulled out her chair, and helped her to sit down under her shared weight. He then pulled his own chair near to hers, sat across from her and took her hand tightly in his unnaturally strong ones.   
  
"Julie," he began, sighed, then started again. "Julie, I got this while standing in the food line today. All the men did." He showed her the crumpled paper. "It's...a draft notice. I have to go."   
  
She instantly broke down, flinging herself into a frenzy of worry. "No, no, what about the baby?" she wailed suddenly. "Our baby might not ever know you..."   
  
"You can tell our child all me then," was the reply. "Be strong, Julie...I'm sorry I won't be here to get the food for you each day..." he trailed off, feeling as though he could cry but not daring to show his fear to her. Instead he held her close, rocking back and forth ever so slightly until her tears subsided. Gently he reminded her that their food was getting cold.   
  
"I'm not sure if I can eat," she said softly.   
  
"But you have to. Here, take mine too," he added, as he did each night.   
  
Julie shook her head. "No. You're leaving tomorrow, you need strength so you can go fight and end the war."   
  
Her belief in him was full of childlike innocence, and as she quietly added, "And then come home to me..." he could only oblige. He took the bowl with less in it, the one he had nearly spilled on the way home. He promised himself he would make it back home, despite how permanent tomorrow's goodbye might seem.   
  


*

  
  
A large camoflague truck sat, its engine on and rumbling, as the crowd of drafted men clambered into it. Their mothers, wives or girlfriends, daughters, sisters, all followed them, clinging to them, pleading with them not to go. Julie-su did not cry as she watched her beloved board the truck, but she did run up to it with the countless other women, if only to reach up and grasp his hand once more. All too soon, even through all the chaos, the truck pulled away, leaving the women alone and scared.   
  
A moment later, the majority of them gathered into a close circle, talking soothingly and trying to comfort each other. Julie did not join the group, and turned to go home.   
  
"Come on, we've got to stick together," a voice said placidly. Julie turned to see a woman only a few years older than herself, smiling through tears that coursed down her face.   
  
"I'm Mai," the woman said. "My husband, father, and brother have all gone. My brother just left today."   
  
Julie was not normally one to make friends easily, but soon found herself introducing herself to Mai, and explaining that she had just seen her husband off. She discovered that Mai lived very enar to her, and the two pledged to spend time becoming friends, in the hopes that they would not miss their loves too much.   
  
Two weeks passed quickly, and in a whirlwhind Julie's child was born. Though there were many, many women left behind that gladly took care of Julie and the tiny Lara-su, they could not begin to compensate for the tired new mother's husband, whom she still had not heard from. It was another three weeks later, sitting and chatting in the livingroom with Mai, that Julie recieved the first of her letters. Mai bounced Lara-su on her knee to keep her happy while Julie went to collect the mail. She was startled when her friend came running back, tearing into a letter in a burst of joyous rapture.   
  
"Look, Lara!" she cried in her excitement. "A letter from daddy!"   
  
The baby stared at her mother, not comprehending but enjoying the happiness in the room. Julie opened the folded paper and read:   
  


Dearest Julie-su, I'm afraid I cannot tell you where I am, due to very obvious reasons and rules I am having to abide by. Already I've been in one battle, though I thankfully did not suffer any injuries. I wonder, has the baby been born yet? I send my love; know how much I miss you. Love always, Knuckles."

  
  
Mai smiled as Julie read the short message again and again. "I told you he would make it allright," she grinned.   
  
Julie wasted no time in sending her reply letter, and a small black-and-white picture of Lara-su.   
  


*

  
  
"Mail call!"   
  
The scores of soldiers clambered as a basket of baby kittens, reaching for the precious packages from home as their names were called. Knuckles was startled out of watching the others when his own name was shouted about the clamour. He grasped his letter, heart thumping at his home address in the upper-left corner. Takin it off to a corner by himself, he torn it open and caught a small photograph that floated out from the envelope. A very young baby stared up at him from the picture.   
  
"Is that your baby?" a friend of his asked.   
  
Knuckles' voice was amazed as he replied, "Yes, she's mine. My little Lara-su." He unfolded the letter in astonishment.   
  


*

  
  
For three years, letters arrived on a regular basis from Knuckles, letters describing his army life and always proclaiming his love. Julie read each one many times, aloud to Lara-su, or to herself as she sat, wide awake in her bed, in the middle of the loneliest nights. The letters kept arriving, each one longer than the one before until the length reached well over five pages. Some told the tales of battles hard fought, some won and some lost. Sometimes the letters were filled with sadness, as one friend or another was killed in battle. And always Julie-su was quick and eager in her replies. Say hello to your friends from me; I'm so sorry to hear about all of those who were lost; do take care of that gunshot wound to your leg, I don't care how small you say it is!...and always in all of her replies, Julie was say she loved him.   
  
She was very suprised one day to open her most recent letter find only one page, with a very short message stating only, "Things are not looking good. There'll be a major battle soon, I can tell it. Don't forget my love." Confused, she read the short letter to Lara-su.   
  
"Daddy letter?" Lara-su asked in her squeaking, three-year-old voice.   
  
"Yes," was her mother's reply, "yes, this is a daddy letter."   
  
Lara-su held out her hands, wanting to hold the letter herself. Often Julie would allow her to, cautioning her to be careful not to rip the paper, but this time she folded it and placed it in the shoebox where she kept all of his letters. When she again looked at her daughter, she felt tears sting her eyes: Lara-su was staring quizzically up at the photograph of her father on the mantlepeice. It was a recent picture; he had sent it a year ago. And for the first time, Julie noticed how much her daughter resembled her husband.   
  
Weeks passed, weeks that shortly turned into months, until nearly a year had gone by without word from Knuckles. Julie-su was determined he was only too busy to write, and each day she would tell her daughter something new about him so Lara-su would not forget. But as the tense days worse on, Lara-su did forget, as small children often do, that she ever had a father. He was only a picture on the mantlepeice, and written words in a shoebox. The day Julie-su heard the announcement of the war's end over the radio, she herself wanted to forget. The war was over, the troops returning home, but Knuckles was not among them.   
  
The husbands of the other women of the town returned, one by one, save for two of them: Knuckles, and a man called Saken. It was not unusual for Julie-su to nearly attack any women who made a comment, rude or not, about Knuckles not returning home.   
  
Finally, finally, a telegram arrived for her. She opened the door at the sharp knock and was met with an official-looking soldier with a grim expression and his hat in his hands. Julie felt her knees go weak and she leaned against the door frame, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth.   
  
"Ma'am," he began, but before he could finish, Lara-su bounded to the door.   
  
"Hi!" she beamed up at the man.   
  
"Hello," he muttered, nodding at her.   
  
Julie picked Lara-su up and held her close. "Something's happened to Daddy," she told the little girl softly.   
  
The soldier looked genuinely sorrowful as he confirmed with, "Missing in action, Ma'am. Not confirmed deceased, but it isn't unlikely."   
  
Julie-su looked at him, a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes. "But there's a small chance?"   
  
"Very small. I'm sorry."   
  
"Thank you," she sighed. She set Lara-su back on the ground, and started on a long road to figuring out where to go from there.   
  


*

  
  
The sun was setting peacefully over the countryside, as hills rolled on beneath it, hills of wheat, or simple grass. This was the best place for daydreaming, though the only youngster to ever figure that out never told anyone. Sunset was her favorite time to daydream, and she particularly liked to sit beneath a large, old willow tree on one hillside. This particular sunset was no different: she wore a long skirt that blew in the breezes of the hills, chases by her hair and the comfortable long-sleeved shirt she wore. She was only seven years old, but already her eyes shone in sorrow as she daydreamed. She was lonesome.   
  
She sighed as the final lights of sunset vanished on the horizon. She stood, supposing she was ready to go home. This night, however, something felt very different to her, and it wasn't long before she found out why. A lone figure ambled along on one of the hills below her, stumbling with every step, finally dropping to its knees and crying out in frustration. She gasped, and slid downt he hill, forgetting her mother's rule to never talk to strangers.   
  
When she plopped onto the ground behind him (for it was a him), he whirled round to face her. His eyes were a misty grey, and she imagined he must have been blind. He stood still a moment before speaking.   
  
"Who's there?"   
  
His voice starled her; it sounded like a creaky door, as though he rarely spoke with it.   
  
"No one meanin' to bother you, sir," she squeaked, talking quickly, "Just me, I'm only seven years old!"   
  
"Calm down," he spoke again. "You're no bother; in fact, I'm glad you found me."   
  
"Is something wrong, sir?"   
  
"I was in the war," he explained after a moment's pause, "but I lost my sight and my memory from a shrarpnel injury just before it ended. The memory came back, the sight didn't. I've just been wandering around since then. Most people are afraid of me, and no one wants to help me..." he trailed off.   
  
"But if your memory is back, can't you remember where your home is?"   
  
"I can't for the life of me remember the name of my town," he comfessed. "Though I'd likely know it if I heard it."   
  
She thought a moment. "You can come home with me. My momma can take care of you. She takes good care of me!"   
  
The two walked across the hills until finally they reached where "home" was. Had the stranger seent he place he may have instantly recognized it, but he was not so lucky.   
  
"Momma, I'm back, I have--"   
  
"Who in this world is that?" A ver perturbed mother stormed from the house across the lawn to her daughter and the stranger. "Tell me now!" she pressed quickly.   
  
"He's lost and people are scared of him so I said you'd take care of him!"   
  
The stranger held out his hand. "Your very sweet daughter was kind enough to offer me your hospitality," he said, then quickly proceeded to tell her the same story he had told the little girl.   
  
The girl's mother grew much softer toward him after the story. "Oh, of course you can stay...my name is Julie-su, and my daughter is Lara-su." She finally shook the stranger's hand, and was startled at how strong his handshake was, though he looked very weak.   
  
"Julie?" he gasped suddenly, then repeated, more astonished, "Julie??"   
  
Her eyes widened, but she shook her head. "You reminded me...of someone I used to know, just then."   
  
"Julie," he repeated again, "I thought you would recognize me when I found you again."   
  
Julie-su's voice was strange when she replied, "I would think you would have recognized your own daughter," and gestured to Lara, who jumped into the conversation.   
  
"Daughter?!"   
  
"Yes, Lara, if I'm not horribley mistaken, Knuckles has found us again...and this is your Daddy." With that statement, Julie-su smiled her happiest smile, even through the joyful tears that she could not hold back.   
  
But Lara-su was a different story. She had dashed inside, only to hurry back with the old mantlepeice photo of her father. She held it up and compared it with the newcomer. The resemblance startled her; this was the man in the picture, only much thinner, more tired-looking and with eyes much less alert. "Daddy," she squeaked in a sort of half-gasp.   
  
He held out his hand to her, and she shook as she took it. "It's good to meet you, Daddy," she whispered.   
  
A slight sob escaped his throat before he knelt and hugger her, for the very first time embracing his precious daughter. Julie-su, too, knelt and the three shared their very first family embrace, or their unceasing love and neverending hope.   
  
And over the course of the next few months, there was not a more loving or happier family to be found. People in the city talked about the nice changes they saw in ulie and Lara upon Knuckles' timeless return. On any given day the three could be seen playing games in the yard, traversing the hills near their house, going to see the latest picture at the town's small theater, or finding some other way to spend the day together. Lara-su was so much like her father that they hit it off instantly, especially loving to team up together and pull some type of prank on the unsuspectiong Julie-su.   
  
All to soon, as they often do, complications began to arise. Over the course of a week, Knuckles began to be completely drained of energy, uable to go for long walks or play many games anymore. So the family was content to sit at home, talking over the lost years.   
  
Another week, however, saw Knuckles too weak to sit up, forced--much against his fiery will--to stay in bed. Lara-su sat on the end of his bed all day long, each day, even while the local doctor was examining her father. She refused to leave when the doctor told her parents that old injuries were resurfacing, that her father would not live much longer. She would not leave his side, despite how badly he hurt, or how afraid she was. It seemd a daze to her. For so long she did not have him, then, for only four short months, she did. Now, sitting on the bed, her mother beside her, she forced herself to stay, to never leave as long as he was here. Through the fog of how quickly things had happened, she watched his finaly moments, listened to him rasping his goodbyes, watched her mother hang her head as she finally had to come to terms with no longer having him. To Lara it seemed that she saw herself, crying, covering her face and running from the room when she realized that this time, he really was gone. She cried for having gained him and lost him again so quickly, having only known him for such a short time.   
  
But she had met him, and meetings can often affect people in the most interesting of ways.   
  
-The End-   
  
  
****   
Well, well, wasn't that...odd? I'm not exactly sure where that came from in my head, either. It sort of just popped out. It was kind of cliché and kind of fast-moving, I know, but hey...what did you think?   
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End file.
